Chapter 32 Tate
TATE
That evening, I’m getting ready for bed when there’s a scratching noise at my bedroom door.
I open it and Phoebe the cat sits at the threshold of my bedroom, staring up at me with those soulless eyes.
And Jordan’s panties dangle from her teeth.
My thoughts blank out but before I can figure out what to do, the cat drops the scrap of navy blue lace and streaks down the hall, snorting and wheezing.
I stare down at the panties, frozen. Bea informed me the other day that cats bring gifts to people they like.
But Jordan’s panties are not a gift.
I mean—they are. They’re another glimpse into a woman I want to know more about, but they’re so beyond the line of appropriate.
I should throw them out. Or give them back to her, but that would be weird.
It would be an excuse to talk to her, and to check in after the event last night. I’ve been thinking about what Ross told me all day. I owe her an apology.
At any rate, I should stop staring at the underwear. Any minute now. I take a deep breath, unable to tear my eyes from them.
When I reach down to pick them up, the lace is soft, and I picture her wearing them. I rub the fabric between my thumb and forefinger and images of me sliding them off her race through my mind.
I could keep them.
At my bedroom windows, I peer down at the guesthouse. The lights are still on.
And with that, I head downstairs.